Heirs of the Blade (58 page)

In that stance, in that arch expression, it was Tisamon who stood before her, or part of him at least. That segment of the Mantis-kinden which had been so devoted to Che’s uncle Stenwold was repressed or excised, along with those few times he had smiled or laughed, or shown himself something like human. Instead this was a sharp-edged and brittle creature of skill and bloodlust that was poised to strike at her, the same despairing figure of tragedy that had dashed itself to death against its love for the Dragonfly Felise Mienn, as Mantis heroes were traditionally wont to do.

Then something flickered in the girl’s eyes that owed nothing to that thousand years of dark and bloody heritage, and she said, ‘Che?’

‘No other,’ the Beetle replied, edging closer and feeling that circle around Tynisa flex as she touched it, like a tripwire, and then vanish, the danger gone as if it had never been. Feeling as though she had been given permission, Che stepped forward and embraced her near-sister.

‘What are you doing here?’ Tynisa asked of her, not annoyed as Che had anticipated, only wondering.

‘Looking for you,’ she explained. ‘You disappeared, remember?’

‘Yes, yes, I did,’ Tynisa agreed. ‘And if you’d found me just a few months ago, I’d not have been grateful for it, I think. Still, things have changed since then. Life’s better than it was.’

Che regarded her cautiously. ‘Is that so?’

The smile that met her gaze was unfamiliar. The Spider-kinden girl Che had grown up with had possessed a grand stock of smiles, knowing, subtle, gleeful, suggestive, a veritable arsenal that had brought about the ruin of many a young man. Tisamon, in contrast, had smiled rarely: his killing grin when shedding blood, and a more human expression reserved for his conversations with Stenwold. This smile belonged neither to the dead father nor to the daughter, as she had faced the world back then, but Che had a feeling that, had Tynisa ever let anyone into her heart, without masks and mirrors, this is what they might have seen.

‘You saw him, saw Alain?’ Tynisa asked her eagerly.

Che frowned for a second before connecting the name to the man. ‘I did,’ she conceded.

‘Well?’

There was obviously some immediate comment she should be ready to make, but Che could not find it.

Tynisa shook her head impatiently. ‘How like his brother he is. The very image, yes?’

Che looked her in the eyes, reading a lot there. Oh, Salme Dien had mocked Che, in his time, but fondly, always fondly. He would never have assumed that expression of condescension that Che had seen on the face of Salme Alain as he departed. But she said, ‘Yes, very,’ nevertheless, because this was not the time, nor the challenge she had come here to deliver. ‘Tynisa, you must know . . . You say things have changed for you?’

‘I have a purpose now,’ Tynisa agreed. ‘I have Alain.’

‘And was there a moment, when that change occurred?’ Che pressed.

Tynisa looked at her oddly. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’

‘Your father, Tynisa?’ Because to barrel on, at this point, seemed the only way – whilst keeping a weather eye open for some murderous reprisal from the man’s ghost. Yet Tynisa’s expression seemed honestly baffled. ‘Tynisa, I know. I saw him for myself. I know that the ghost of your father has sought you out, and I’m here to help you.’

For a long moment Tynisa just stared at her, and Che tensed, waiting for that glint of steel in her eyes that would herald Tisamon clawing to the forefront of her mind. Then she laughed: a snort of amusement that emerged despite all of Tynisa’s attempts to control it. ‘Ghosts, Che? There’s no such thing as ghosts. Don’t tell me fifteen years of College education didn’t teach you that.’

Che stared back at her, caught utterly off guard. ‘But . . . you can’t tell me you haven’t felt him, seen him even . . .?’

Tynisa’s expression sobered. ‘Oh, I won’t deny I’ve enjoyed some strange company when I’ve been on my own – on my way here and during the winter. I won’t say I didn’t see him.’ She held a hand up to forestall Che. ‘Achaeos, too, and Salma. You can’t imagine the fright it gave me to see Alain for the first time. I thought that I really was going out of my mind. But that was just me, Che, because I was all alone and I’d lost . . . everything, or so it seemed. I don’t think anyone could blame me for indulging in a few fantasies. But that’s done now, since I found Alain. I’m a new woman now.’

Gazing at her, Che could all but see the malignant form of Tisamon lurking at her shoulder. She could feel the dead Weaponsmaster’s presence like a chill in the air, but Tynisa kept smiling slightly condescendingly.

‘Ghosts, Che? Seriously? You’ll find plenty of people here who believe in them. But we know better, surely?’ Her smile was so brittle that Che could almost detect the cracks, but in Tynisa’s eyes there was absolutely no recognition of that looming presence which Che felt like a physical pressure.

‘We have to talk, Tynisa,’ Che said at last, recognizing defeat in the first skirmish, and retreating to a prepared position. ‘But I’ve come a long way, and I need to catch my breath. Tomorrow perhaps?’

‘And where were you?’ Che asked Maure, when she had tracked her down, after considerable searching.

‘Looking after your best interests by absenting myself,’ the mystic told her. ‘The ghost
knows
me – and knows me for its enemy. It wouldn’t have helped, me being there. When I meet it again, I want it to be somewhere that I’ve warded. Besides, I’ve been asking questions on your behalf.’

‘Oh?’

‘That steward wanted my services, so I said I’d help her. We talked. She was close-mouthed, but I worked out what put the sour look on her face.’

‘Tynisa?’ Che suggested glumly. ‘They don’t think she should be associating with their prince, I suppose.’

Maure gave her a curious look. ‘Well, you’ve got it completely backwards but, other than that, you’re right. Prince Alain has a reputation with women, and I get the impression that Lisan Dea was doing her best, as warden of the castle’s hospitality, to keep the two of them apart. But that’s all gone to the pits now, as you saw.’

Che closed her eyes briefly. ‘That’s a complication I don’t think I can deal with just at the moment. Let me stay with my brief and free her from the ghost, if I can. She’s never had any difficulties with relationships before.’ Even as Che said that, she saw Tynisa’s face again in her mind, all those layers of social accomplishment stripped away, leaving something as raw and vulnerable as her father ever was. Had not Tisamon himself made such unhappy personal relationships the very meat and drink of his downfall? ‘If that’s how this Lisan Dea feels, why hasn’t she warned Tynisa?’

‘And betray her mistress and the family? Unthinkable.’

‘And yet she told you.’

Maure shrugged. ‘There’s a saying: no secrets from the dead. It generalizes to those of my profession. We do more than clutch at the memory of the departed. Sometimes those grieving simply need a sympathetic ear amongst the living rather than an audience with the dead. Our seneschal didn’t want any spectres raised. She wanted . . . confession. Your sister is in danger from Alain, and she’s being used as a weapon by the Salmae princess, as well. Only, the way I hear it, that weapon turned out to be sharper than anyone guessed. I think we both know why that is.’

‘We need to act on the ghost fast, then. Advise me, Maure.’

‘Bring your sister to a place of my choosing – one that I have properly prepared. I will then throw open the doors, and see if he will emerge. If he does, I will fight him for her.’

Che regarded her doubtfully. ‘And that will work, will it?’

‘No guarantees.’ Maure’s mouth twisted. ‘He may just sit there in her mind, like a grub in a tree and not be drawn. He may prove too strong for me, in which case I’ll need your help.’

‘Me?’

Maure shrugged. ‘Your strength, the power you’ve been gifted with, the authority you’ve assumed, whatever you prefer to call it. With you beside me, I’m willing to venture it.’

Che thought about that. ‘When you say “open the doors”, does that mean other ghosts might . . .?’

‘Well, if I set my wards correctly, we should have an exclusive audience,’ the mystic declared. She noticed Che’s expression. ‘But I can leave them open, just a little while, and if there is some other ghost, some echo of someone linked to you . . .?’

Che was silent for a while, reaching out for an empty space within her.
I have thought about it since I first met this woman. Would it do any harm? We had so many things we never said.

‘They have the Wasps lodged in some retainer’s hut outside the walls,’ Maure informed her briskly, breaking the mood. ‘I have the directions. I don’t know about you, but I don’t feel welcome enough to spend the night in Castle Leose, and besides, I find I miss Varmen more than I expected. Have your sister come to that hut, which is far enough from this castle for me not to have to deal with generations of Salmae ancestors battering at the door. Then I’ll see what I can do.’

Thirty-Five

Tynisa had wondered how a Commonwealer noble would be able to confine her enemies, in a castle of the Inapt, where there were no locks, and where those prisoners could most likely possess the Art to fly. It was an eventuality that the ancient builders of Leose had apparently anticipated, however, for there were so many cellars underlying the castle that it seemed remarkable the structure was not undermined to the point of collapse. The largest and most central of these was reached by a narrow and easily defensible stair leading down from the guards’ quarters on the floor above, and alternatively through a trapdoor set into the courtyard, wide enough for a horse to be lowered through it should the need arise. The lords of Leose clearly did not want to see their enemies dragged through the castle halls on their way to imprisonment. So, when the surviving chiefs of the brigands had been brought in, it was a simple matter to decant them straight into the bowels of the castle.

There was only one cell down there: a pit excavated into the floor, some fifteen foot deep, and walled in smooth, slick stone. Of course, that would prove no obstacle to most Commonwealers, but the grille that covered it was held down at each corner by a heavy block of stone. Tynisa had watched the captives installed there, seeing those same weights swung into position on ropes that were balanced by counterweights. It was as intricate a system as the Inapt had ever designed, and plainly dated from whatever ancient era the castle was first constructed in. Only the cane grille and the ropes themselves would have needed periodic replacement, and the masters of Leose had held their enemies here in such a manner since time immemorial.

She had now come back to view the prisoners –
her
prisoners as she felt justified in considering them. For had
she
not led the charge? Had
she
not been the vanguard of the assault that had scattered their army and captured them? She looked upon them, almost fondly, with a proprietorial air.
My gift to Alain.

As she approached, stepping lightly down the narrow, winding stair from above, she heard a hurried movement, the flurry of wings, and knew that one of the prisoners must have been crawling about the underside of the grille, testing it for weak points. The canes themselves were as thick in diameter as Tynisa’s arm, and they were bound together with wire, as well as cord that had been soaked first and then dried tight. Even those prisoners whose Art had furnished them with blades would not be able to pry this prison apart.

As she stepped to the edge, they were all waiting with upturned faces, pale or sallow or the gold of Dragonfly-kinden. The only one bound was the Wasp-kinden, who had his arms twisted behind him and lashed together, that being a lesson the Commonwealers had learned well enough. She gave them time to recognize her, as she stood gazing down on them like an empress.

A mixed bag they were, too, about a score of them, looking more like tired, wretched vagabonds than dangerous brigands. They included a ragbag of Grasshoppers and Dragonflies, the one brooding Scorpion, the Wasp, and a Spider-kinden who must have been very far from home. The Scorpion’s glare was baleful but defeated, and only one seemed to retain a spark of defiance. She almost smiled at the sight of their leader: the Dragonfly known, she had since learned, as Dal Arche.

‘Come to gloat?’ he asked, and the walls of the pit took the soft words and conveyed them up to her easily.

‘To see justice done,’ she retorted, and he nodded philosophically.

‘That time is it, then? Are you the executioner?’

‘You have a few days more to brood on your defeat,’ she declared, noting the shadows of anger and despair that passed across their faces. In truth, Salme Elass was saving them for something suitably public. She had sent messengers to cordially invite Felipe Shah to witness the death of these enemies of the Monarch’s peace, and Tynisa knew that the woman would then press for the retaking of Rhael, so as to finish off the extermination of all the scum that had gathered there in defiance of the rightful authority of the princes. Still, the brigand’s suggestion had some merit in it. ‘I shall ask to be appointed as your executioner, and why not? For who else has that right, more than I?’

The Dragonfly looked up at her, almost smiling, with eyes narrowed like a man looking into the sun. ‘Since you’re in a talkative mood, what’s all of this to you, girl? They paying you well, are they?’

‘I’m no mercenary,’ she told him. ‘I just know what’s right. You’re lawbreakers and rebels against the Monarch.’

‘Well, that makes us sound grand,’ Dal Arche replied wryly. ‘I hadn’t realized you’d met the Monarch. I never saw her myself.’

‘You know what I mean.’

He shrugged. ‘I won’t deny that the laws of princes don’t sit happily on my shoulders. I travelled a long way to get out from under them but, wherever you go, it seems there’s always someone trying to tell you what to do, whether they call themselves prince or emperor. I thought I might as well come home, in that case.’

Tynisa shook her head, crouching by the edge of the grille to see him better. ‘Oh, that won’t carry weight, brigand. I’ve seen the Empire, and you can’t equate Imperial rule with the Commonweal.’